I can’t help but squeeze my eyes shut to brace for the impact, and the pain that slams through my body takes me to the brink of unconsciousness. My face scrapes the ground as I land and skid across the asphalt. Warm blood trickles around my burning cheeks and I might have twisted my ankle. But no greyskins are eating me. When I look up, I see that the crane has smashed most of them, but the ones that weren’t killed are staggering toward me.
I’ve got to move. I turn my head just in time to see a cloud of dust in the distance.
“Help,” the words pass my lips in a whisper.
I pull myself off the ground and try to run in the direction of the dust. Looking behind me there are at least five greyskins on my tail, and one of them has recently died, meaning it is fast.
I keep running. The dust settles and I can tell it’s a vehicle, a truck. Someone’s getting out of it. A man. I run to the truck, praying he doesn’t think I’m one of the greyskins. I wave my arms.
“I’m not one of them! I’m not one of them!”
He pulls out a rifle and aims it at me. I have no idea what he’s planning, but I keep running.
The next sound is a bullet whizzing past my head. Then another and another. Is he shooting at me?
A quick look behind me shows that this guy is an excellent marksman because three of the greyskins are down. My ankle and cut leg hurt so badly, it’s difficult for me to move fast enough.
Another bullet, another greyskin goes down. But the fast one is gaining on me. I hear another shot, but this one hits the greyskin’s chest. No good. I should be watching where I’m running instead of glancing behind me. My bum ankle gives out and I tumble to the ground. Another loud shot, and the greyskin is hit in the neck. Still no good. It’s coming up on me. No more shots. The guy must be reloading. I reach for my knife and try to stand, but the greyskin’s head cracks open with the sound of another blast and it drops to the ground. The echo of the shot is followed closely by silence and then the sound of hurried footsteps coming toward me.
The man comes around from the other side of his truck and I look up at him. His face is young, etched with concern as he rushes toward me. I wish my arms weren’t shaking uncontrollably.
“Are you bit?” he asks me.
I can’t find the words. I look down at my body. I’ve got scrapes bruises and a deep cut, but I haven’t been bitten or scratched.
“No,” I tell him.
He looks at me, then at the town as more greyskins start to make their way toward us. He puts a strong hand under my arm and helps me to my feet.
“Let’s go,” he says.
“Where are we going?”
He helps me into the seat and closes the door. The window is rolled down and he looks back at the town.
“Anywhere but here.”
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The Starborn Ascension: Books 1, 2, and 3 (The Starborn Saga) Page 72